


Almost Alice

by Indybaggins



Category: Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Alien Culture, Alternate Universe, First Time, Friendship/Love, M/M, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-02
Updated: 2011-08-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 04:06:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1154682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indybaggins/pseuds/Indybaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU with a heavy dose of Sci-fi. A first time. An alien. Mention of abuse. If earth is wonderland, then where does Alice come from?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost Alice

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: “A WL fic inspired by the song "The Lobster Quadrille" by Franz Ferdinand from the Alice soundtrack. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ycbOAwO1KpA” 
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/indybaggins/media/25bestfirst2011a.png.html)  
>   
> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/user/indybaggins/media/31mostunique2011.png.html)  
> 

 

 

 

“You know I am an alien,” seventeen year-old Ryan says in the general direction of sixteen-and-a-half year-old Greg’s bare feet. They are cutting class for the twenty-fourth time that year. Greg will be moving away in five days.

Birds are flying in the painfully bright sky and Greg says, “Yeah, sure,” sweaty slippery fingers confiscating the joint they have been sharing between them. It’s too warm to breathe. He puts the joint at his lips, and then pauses to say, “You’re dreaming.” He sounds a little unsure none the less. 

Ryan says nothing; instead watches a drop of sweat appear on Greg’s brow, right above his enormous glasses. He can’t help it. They are lying low behind a hedge on an old bedcover of Greg’s they keep there for that purpose exactly. 

Ryan lets the side of his hand brush against Greg’s. Greg stiffens for a second, and then lets him. “I really am. An alien.” he says again. Time is running out, and Ryan needs to make him see. Greg sighs, but doesn’t try to dissuade him. Ryan for a second wants to hold him incredibly much and then pushes the thought away, restraint and shame coiling tight in his belly. 

He isn’t high. 

 

\---

 

_The first attempts at study had failed. When an alien consciousness was transferred to an adult human, that human would end up standing out like a sore thumb. The only data they could gather ended up being from prison, or from metal institutions, and often the subjects got themselves killed even before that (cars, other humans, the ingesting of dangerous metals, the slicing of limbs to see what was beneath). Earth was a strange place and none of them seemed equipped to deal with a human body. Until one noted that humans seemed to reproduce biologically (they had no idea how). There were little humans, raised into adults. They got bestowed with great care, and seemed to be protected from many of the evils that had been their previous downfall._

_And that’s how project Ryan came to be._

 

\---

 

“Maybe I’m an alien too then,” Greg says philosophically. They haven’t spoken for over ten minutes. The joint has burned out. Ryan thought he had fallen asleep, and had been studying Greg’s face, his upturned arms, the purplish bruises at curve of his biceps, his neck. Even though it’s before noon, the air seems to simmer with heat. They have nothing but time, he tells himself. 

“Why would _you_ be?” Ryan asks, twirling a piece of grass around his finger, trying to sound conspicuous about the looks. He suspects Greg is humouring him. Or maybe he is really thinking about it. He can never quite tell, with Greg. 

“Well if you are maybe I am too,” Greg says, looking at him quickly and then averting his eyes. 

Ryan feels heat radiate to his cheeks. He doesn’t know what to say. 

 

\---

 

_Cloning a human newborn, make some alterations to its genetic code to ensure its success, and placing it into a family. They chose a family that already had four little male humans, making it easy for the Ryan to integrate himself, and possibly even be overlooked by the adults until he was already a part of the group._

_They severely underestimated the observational skills of the humans though, because when they beamed the perfect human newborn with wooden crib (it had cost their best engineers a whole month to create it, not previously been familiar with wood) into the house near dinnertime, the whole family seemed extremely agitated. There were loud, piercing sounds and a lot of movement. They eventually had to wipe the memories of the entire group, and place the idea that the child had always been there. That seemed to calm them down, and that is how the new life of Ryan started._

 

\--- 

 

Ryan doesn’t look at Greg, instead studies the crumpled leather jacket Greg’s head is resting on. There’s an ant slowly making its way over their old red-and-blue striped blanket. Their shoes are kicked off in the grass a couple feet further. His mind is racing. He imagines he can smell Greg’s jacket from where he is lying. He can definitely smell grass, the heavy scent of the pot they have been smoking, even a trace of sweat from either Greg or himself. He wants Greg. He wants to save him, keep him, make _sure_... 

He feels light, as if a gust of wind could carry him away. His stomach is twisting into knots. He finally looks at Greg. Greg looks right back, eyes glittering. He’s licking his lips. He looks nervous too. They both move at the same time, and bump together too hard, closed lips crashing into each other. They try it again, more controlled. And then again, slower. The blanket crumples between them, Ryan’s head is at an uncomfortable angle and his hand is at Greg’s elbow, holding him there, their lips slowly moving together. 

It’s the best moment of his life. 

 

\---

 

_His name hadn’t always been Ryan, of course. He didn’t have a name, before. He was cloned from a great mind, who then again had been cloned from another, and so on. Their bodies were clones too, short, lean and grey, large head, it had everything they needed and could easily be replaced; when one wore out it was simply a case of growing another. So for Ryan to be in this body, this small, pink fragile thing, was a huge adjustment. He was a scientist above all, very conscious of his role as a new human and of the great importance of this data for the survival of their race. So he kept his calm. Even when he got lifted out of the crib by enormous arms and was held he staid perfectly quiet. He seemed to require a great amount of sleep, drifting in and out constantly. Then he was fed, a bottle with something warm and heavy placed into his little mouth until he swallowed reflexively, and that’s how he discovered pleasure. Trying his hardest to describe the feeling he telepathically sent it on to the research centre, but already he was afraid they would not understand, never having had a body that felt hunger._

 

\---

 

“You could stay with me, I could...” Ryan says in a rush, looking down hungrily at Greg, they had turned over somehow, he doesn’t remember, only the slick slide of Greg’s tongue. Greg looks flushed, his cheeks red, his lips ever darker. His glasses are smudged, and he takes them off and carefully places them above his head on the grass. 

Greg blinks. He’s slightly out of breath. “You couldn’t, Ryan.” he says and he sounds gentle and tired at the same time, the corners of his eyes crinkling against the sun. He’s heard it all before. Ryan hasn’t seen him without glasses before and it should be strange but it isn’t, instead he weaves his long fingers into Greg’s curls and kisses him again. 

 

\---

 

_Soon Ryan started to crave the touch of the arms coming into his crib and lifting him. He got held, laid on the soft chest of the female and lightly tapped on the back. The arms of the adult male were even larger, but no less gentle, stroking his cheek, chest rumbling while he touched him. The small males crowded around him, sometimes poking him (pain, was that pain?) but often just looking at him, making strange sounds and movements._

_He tried to think at them telepathically many times. “Hello, I am here.” “Please come and communicate with me” and “I am interested in you” But all his attempts failed. He was so used to not using his mouth, not making any sound, that now it seemed like an impossible feat. One that was strongly expected of him, he knew._

 

\---

 

Ryan is painfully hard in his jeans by now. He can feel Greg is too, a solid heat next to his left leg, but he feels too unsure to do anything about it (don’t hurt him- don’t hurt him) so they just kiss. Long and slow, hard, Greg uses his legs to twist them over, holds Ryan’s arms pinned down above his head and kisses him wildly. Ryan feels dizzy with pleasure. 

Even when his lips start to hurt, swollen, every movement of Greg’s against them magnified, they kiss more, and when Greg releases his arms Ryan lets his hands sneak under Greg’s t-shirt and spread out over his shoulder blades. He doesn’t know if he’s going too far, but then Greg moans into his mouth. Greg’s back is wet with sweat but smooth and warm under his hands. Greg sits up, briefly, and pulls the shirt over his head. His hair is standing up in all directions, and he’s looking at Ryan directly, daring him. Ryan takes in Greg’s chest, two small nipples, a faint hint of hair above his belt, an assortment of scars and pale greenish bruises all over. He shouldn’t be shocked (he knew) but yet he still is somehow. Greg pokes his shoulder, stops him from thinking too much and urges him to take off his shirt too, warm hands trailing over his side, not really helping but there anyway. Ryan complies because he wants it too, badly. The blanket looks like a battle field by now. 

 

\---

 

 _Eventually, it came by accident. One of the smaller humans had been leaning over his crib, poking his belly, uttering sounds at him, when the poke to his belly became some kind of scratch that sent a shiver up his spine and a great, not completely unpleasant but overwhelming wave through him. He could feel the corners of his mouth contort strangely, and suddenly he was making a sound. It sounded breathy and shrill and completely wrong to himself, but the small human above him yelled at the others, and soon his crib was crowded by the whole family as they watched him get tickled and laugh, and he could see a large amount of pleasure and relief on their faces, them copying his laugh back at him._

 

\---

 

Greg’s hand has moved down between them at one point, and it is putting amazing pressure on Ryan’s jeans. He’s feeling him up, Ryan realizes. All of his blood seems to rush downwards at the thought, and he holds his breath sharply. “Don’t come yet!” Greg says hurriedly. Ryan grins. “Not yet?” he asks, both attempting to tease Greg and to ask because he could here, any minute. 

“No...” Greg says, looking slightly embarrassed. He doesn’t seem to be able to say more, but Ryan thinks he knows anyway and fumbles to open the first button on his own jeans. Greg looks down at his hands and lets his fingers splay out there, clumsily help him lower the zipper. It feels amazing already when Greg’s fingers curiously trail over his underwear, wet spot at the top from pre-come, and feel out his dick through the thin white cotton. Ryan helps, and shimmies his jeans and then his underwear towards his knees, dick red and hard, pointing towards his belly. Greg is looking at him, and he has never felt so thrilled. 

 

\---

 

 _The first year he had been too concentrated on himself to really see, but then he started to notice the seasons. He felt (and tasted) snow. He noticed sunshine, rain (“Water droplets falling from the sky!” he told the scientists. They answered him with statistics about cloud movements and how water was transferred into earth’s atmosphere. He simply answered with the feeling of utter delight.) He puzzled over hail, and scared his family by walking outside in a thunder storm (it was just so interesting!)._

 

\---

 

Greg opens his jeans as well, and when they lie down together again, and trail fingers and touches and skin against skin it’s an entirely new feeling, intimate beyond anything either of them has done before. Ryan thinks that if he would be doing this with anyone but Greg he probably would be scared. It feels as if his skin itself is on fire. 

He knows very well what it is like to come in his own hand, an orgasm, but this is so far beyond that it isn’t even the same thing. Greg’s legs and arms and heavy body are above him, Greg’s eyes on him, they’re both sweating heavily, slippery, breaths coming quick. Greg is kind of nibbling and licking his neck and it’s making him shiver, and Ryan tries to get a hand between them so he can hold Greg _there_ and give him something else to rub against than the crook of his leg. But then by moving their dicks align somehow and Greg moans into his ear, breath hot and moist and Ryan suddenly in a rush of clarity knows that he is going to come right then and there. So he grabs Greg even closer and Greg moans and moves with him. 

He feels amazing and somehow embarrassed that he did it too soon anyway but Greg seems to be too far gone to notice, hips moving, breathing hard, eyes shut tight. Ryan feels sad for that last one and so he whispers “Greg,” and Greg looks at him. He gets to see the wave of pleasure glaze Greg’s eyes even before he feels the wetness near his own over-sensitized dick and instantly knows he will never forget the sight. Never. 

 

\---

 

 _He laughed often, at his brothers, when they played with him, or at his mother or father. They were kind, and put a lot of effort into connecting with him like that. He still did not understand, but he did not mind indulging them. He got up with a smile in the morning and went to bed with one at night. “You are my sunshine,” his mother often sung to him, and after he had felt the sun (warm, light, lush on his skin) he had felt honoured to be compared to that. He didn’t tell the scientists, because by now he knew they wouldn’t understand. He had become something else._

 

\---

 

The clean-up is somewhat awkward (Greg’s blanket will never be the same again) and they are both quiet until they are dressed again and Greg remarks “I never knew my first time was going to be under a hedge” and laughs out loud, the sound startlingly normal. “Or with an alien,” Ryan says softly. His hands are still shaking. He feels incredible. He’s sure they’re going to be okay, pretty much.

He hadn’t quite meant for Greg to hear but he did anyway, saying, “For the last time Ryan, you aren’t. Or at least not, well, and actual alien. You might be the other thing. But there are no aliens. No superheroes.” And Ryan thinks of the years he spent preparing for Earth-living and how none of the things they had told him prepared him for this at all. He thinks of learning how to laugh, and how he is supposed to tell _them_ about this, about what just happened between Greg and him, and how he fiercely does not want anyone else besides himself inside his head ever again. He thinks of his mother, and father, and every single hug he has ever gotten, and how easily he can make Greg’s parents forget that they ever even had him. He can do _anything_. So he carefully says, “I can do alien things.” He wonders if this is love. 

Greg stills while folding up the blanket and putting it back under the bushes. He turns around, and looks at him.

 _Will you, won’t you._ Ryan takes a deep breath. “Just wait and see.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
